Muddy Buddies
by Casia Gomez
Summary: Cas appears in the bunker covered in mud; Dean helps him. Now a bunch of short not-really-connected one-shots about Cas and his misadventures with various things. (Destiel is only referenced in a few chapters)
1. Mud

**I don't own Supernatural; just my imagination. Enjoy!**

* * *

Dean thought Cas had thrown him every scenario. He was wrong. The angel had suddenly flown into the bunker, as muddy as hell, if hell was muddy. Sam was sleeping in his room when the incident occurred.

"Why...?" Dean asked from his chair in the library, mouth agape, staring at the mud-covered trench coat, suit, tie, shoes. Even Castiel's face had mud on it.

"Z."

"Huh?"

"The letter after Y is Z."

Dean blinked, then understood. "Oh, no, I wasn't saying the alphabet; I want to know why you're muddy."

Cas looked at himself as if he suddenly realized he was very dirty. "Ah, yes. That is of no import."

"Well, it is, since you're dripping on my clean floor!" Dean exclaimed, seeing the effort put into his home gone to waste.

Castiel looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't move, okay?" Dean stood up and walked into the kitchen.

"I guess I'll just wait here then," Cas stated. Dean didn't seem too angry today. That was a good sign.

Dean returned with a white, wet rag, handing it to the angel. "Get your face cleaned."

Cas did as he was told. By the time he was finished, the rag was brown. He gave it back to Dean, who said, "Now take your clothes off."

There was a confused look on the innocent face of Castiel, but Dean didn't see since he returned to the kitchen. Cas was unsure as to what this meant, knowing that taking clothing off amidst someone's library was awkward, but he still stripped anyhow. He was left in white boxers and navy blue socks.

"You can go get some of my clothes," Dean offered when he reappeared, seizing the pile of Cas' clothes. He didn't seem deterred by the half naked angel, taking the trench coat and suit to the laundry room.

Timidly shuffling down the hallway, Cas found Dean's room and his clothes. He didn't know what to do, though. He felt like only Dean should be wearing those jeans, that jacket, etc.

Dean found him. "Cas, aren't you going to get dressed?"

Castiel turned around, blushing. "I, uh, this, um..." he couldn't look his friend in the eye.

The older Winchester sighed, grabbed a black shirt out of the drawer and put it over Cas' head, pulling it down. "So tell me, how did you get so muddy?"

Cas swallowed as Dean then stuck one of Cas' feet in a pair of jeans. "I slipped."

"Very descriptive," Dean responded.

"Really?"

"That was sarcasm," he started pulling up, up, up on the jeans, which sent chills up Cas' spine.

The angel cleared his throat. "I was walking along the side of a road, tripped on a rock, and it had recently rained, so I fell into a puddle. Then I came here."

"'Cause you know that I'd know what to do," Dean clarified, glancing downward. "Zip up your pants."

Cas noticed that Dean had finished dressing him. "Oh," he said, doing as the Winchester said.

"Was that so hard?"

"Um...no."

"Well, don't expect me to do that ever again," Dean walked out of his room.

Cas exhaled, wishing Dean hadn't said that. He wanted to get muddy all over again.


	2. Shoes

Dean was wrong a second time when Cas sat at a chair in the library, staring at the shiny black shoes on his feet. His clothes had been washed and dried, the angel restored to his normal look. Sam was still sleeping.

"Something the matter?" Dean asked, a pie in hand and a fork in the other.

"The strings," Cas replied solemnly.

"You don't know how to tie a shoe?"

Castiel looked up at him, then back to his shoes. Dean grinned, setting the pie on the table. He grabbed a chair and put Cas' foot on it. "I'm gonna teach you how to tie a shoe, okay?" He sat on his feet so he was face-to-shoe.

The angel somewhat blushed. "Okay."

Dean seized the laces, demonstrating as he explained. "The first thing you do is the simple knot. Next, make a loop with one." He paused so that Cas could enter it into his mind. "Then, take the other string and make it go around the other. Turn that into a loop, and you have a tied shoe!"

Cas turned his head inquisitively at his foot. "Who invented this method?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged. "Now you try."

Cas picked up the laces, turning them into a simple knot. He made a loop, took the other one around the other, and then made that one into a loop. However, he pulled too hard, and it failed. "Oops."

"Try again," Dean suggested as the angel undid the strings and tried again.

This time, Cas got it right, a small amount of triumph surging in his chest.

"Great job," Dean smiled.

The angel felt prouder now that Dean was happy. "Thanks."

All of a sudden, Sam emerged into the room and yawned. "What'd I miss?"

"Our little angel just learned how to tie his shoes," Dean announced.

Sam looked at Cas, who returned the gaze. "That's..." he nodded, searching for words. "...great."

"Thanks," Cas responded, eyeing his shoes. Dean patted his head, stood back up, and grabbed his pie.


	3. Vacuum

**This is based off of a picture I saw :)**

* * *

Keeping the enormous bunker clean is not easy. At times like this, when there's a lot of dust, they needed their vacuum, a monstrosity that took up the entire closet.

It was Dean's turn to sweep, but the Winchester had other plans. He looked at the ceiling and said, "Hey Cas, get your butt down here!"

The angel appeared with the sound of flapping wings. "Sorry, but I had to bring the rest of me as well."

Dean grinned, slapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "That's even better. I was wondering...could you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Dean," Cas replied, knowing that the human had done so much for him already.

The hunter's face broke into a smile. "Vacuum the bunker for me, please."

Cas blinked. "Vacuum? As in take all the air out of this place?"

"Hell no, Cas!" Dean shook his head. "I mean..." he walked over to the closet, gesturing for the angel to follow. "You'll use this to get all the dirt up." He opened the closet, the giant sweeper sitting there.

"What do I do with it?"

Dean dragged the vacuum out into the open space and grabbed the cord. "You put this in an electrical output," he shook the end of it. "Then you press this button," he indicated to a place near the top, "and move the vacuum around so it gets the dirt up. Be sure to get all of the floor area." He plugged it into a socket. "Can you handle this?"

Cas slightly nodded. "I think."

"Well then," Dean smiled, "enjoy!" He strolled off into his room, leaving the confused angel alone.

Castiel gulped. He eyed the vacuum with a certain caution, then pushed the button. The vacuum roared to life with an awful sound that scared the angel out of his grace and it began moving on its own. "DEAN!" the angel sprinted down the hallway.

The Winchester exited his room to have Cas run into him. "Dean, it's possessed!" he grabbed him by his jacket. "Get holy water!"

Dean both sighed and laughed. "That's the sound it's supposed to make." He removed Castiel's grip.

"Oh," Cas looked highly embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Cas. I'm sure that other angels haven't ever used a vacuum." Dean went out into the library and shut off the sweeper.

Cas peered around the corner. "Is it dead now?"

"Yes."

"Do I still have to clean the bunker?"

"No, you don't."

"Good!" Cas disappeared without another word.

Dean shook his head, grinning. "Angels. They're just babies in trench coats."


	4. Peanut Butter

"Dean, we have a situation," Cas flew into the bunker.

"Another?" Dean asked, exasperated. "Cas, what is it this time?"

The angel turned around and extended his jet-black wings. There was a sticky brown substance that smelled of peanuts stuck in his feathers.

"How the hell did you get peanut butter in them?!" Dean half-chuckled.

Castiel turned back around, face red from embarrassment. He was somewhat tired of depending on Dean for little things like this. "Gabriel."

"Explains everything," Dean nodded. "Sammy?! You might wanna see this!"

His little brother entered the library and began giggling. Manly giggling, mind you, the kind where he puts his hand to his mouth so as not to offend the angel. "Oh, Cas. What happened?"

"Gabriel."

"Thought so," Sam said.

"Remember when this happened to you?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. "Oh yeah."

"You always hated getting your hair cut."

"That's because no one should trust you with scissors!"

"I was eight!"

"Wait," Cas took a step back. "You aren't going to cut my feathers, are you?"

"No, no, no," Dean contradicted, "We'll wash it out." He nudged his brother and they took off for the kitchen with airy laughing.

Cas sighed, his weighted wings drooping to the floor. Why did Gabe have to be such an assbutt?

Sam and Dean returned with a few towels and pots of steaming water. "Tell us if it hurts," Dean commented as he and Sam dipped the towels in the water and began working on one wing each, Cas standing still to let them get the condiment out. He thought it was a nice feeling to have a gentle touch stroking his wings so delicately. Sometimes he didn't know what he would do without his friends.

"All done," Dean announced, snapping Cas out of a heavenly trance.

"Already?" the angel questioned.

"You should've done that all those years ago to me," Sam muttered.

"Shut up. Your hair grew back, didn't it?" Dean said. "Feel better, Cas?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Thanks," he hugged the Winchesters simultaneously.

Both brothers patted the angel on the back.


	5. Clapping Lamp

Sam and Dean had recently bought a new lamp for the library. When they clapped, it would turn on or off. Useful.

One day, Dean was minding his own business, reading an issue of _Busty Asian Beauties_, his feet propped up on the table, when Cas unexpectedly flew in. Dean hid the magazine under the table. "Hey, Cas. What's up?"

"Heaven."

"Of course," Dean rolled his eyes. "So, what'cha here for?"

Cas pulled out a chair and sat. "Nothing. I just wanted to 'hang.'"

"Ah," Dean said. He took his magazine back out. "Wanna see this month's special edition?"

"No," the angel replied. "I thought you said you weren't supposed to watch porn around other guys."

"That's _watch_, not _read_," Dean corrected, flipping the page fast enough that made a loud crack similar to a clap.

The lamp turned off. Castiel jumped. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Dean asked.

Sam entered, shutting a door. The lamp turned on.

"There!" Cas exclaimed.

The brothers exchanged glances. Sam was carrying a box of stuff until he unceremoniously dropped it on the table. The lamp turned off.

"It's possessed!" the angel yelled, pointing an accusing finger and sending it off the table. It broke when it hit the floor.

"Cas, that was new!" Dean said hotly.

"It was possessed," Cas defended himself. "You're welcome."

Sam laughed. "That was a clapping lamp. You know, where you make a loud noise and it automatically turns on or off?"

Castiel blinked, then slightly nodded. "Oh."

"I'll go buy a new one," Dean threw down his magazine and stomped off.

They watched him go, then Sam asked, "Why do you assume everything's possessed?"

Cas gave him an equal gaze. "Why don't you?"


	6. Fans

For the first time in a while, Cas was alone when the next incident occurred. He investigated a section of Home Depot on Heaven's orders, walking through the aisles to find a sign of sulfur.

That's when his trench coat snagged.

The enormous fan was running; it really got caught in there. Cas looked at the scene of the crime, trying to pull his trench coat out. It wasn't working, so he pulled harder, but the fan was just dragged behind him. He kept backing up, tugging on his trench coat. "Uh...somebody help?" he angled his head around. "Somebody?!" That's when he ran into a bunch of boxes that toppled over and buried the confused angel. The fan was still attached to his trench coat.

Castiel resurfaced and lunged out of the mess, grabbing at the floor like the fan was a shark trying to pull him into the water. "Get it off of me!" he yelled desperately, kicking at the fan that was still trying to blow air. If it could have been alive, it would've been screaming, too, thinking that the coat tasted bad.

"Sir? Sir!" an employee shouted, sprinting over to the helpless angel. "I got it!" he untangled the two, the fan swirling around as if nothing had happened.

"Appliances hate me," Cas muttered, briskly walking away to a different part of the store. He examined his trench coat to find it ripped. "I'm going to kill that thing if it's the last thing I do," he growled.

Later that night, after Home Depot had closed, the vengeful angel returned. Instead of spending the time to find the exact one that had attacked him, he obliterated all of the machines in the area and left with a curt nod and a smile.

However, when he flew to the bunker the next day, he found a sweaty Dean sitting directly in front of the evil fan, which had been bought the previous afternoon. Cas went into panic mode, of course.

"Watch out, Dean! It'll eat your face off!"


	7. Sink Problems

One night, when Dean asked Cas to do the dishes, the angel agreed. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, washing through pie plates and glasses with small amounts of beer in the bottom. The fluffy bubbles tickled his arms as he went about his business. Finally, something was going right.

The dirtiest dish had something very scary-looking growing on it, so Cas decided to let the water down and scrape the food off instead. He'd seen Sam and Dean use the garbage disposal method before, taking the food down into the depths of who-knows-where. Cas leaned over to the side and flipped the switch.

However, his tie was in the sink when he did that.

Immediately, the disposal sucked in Castiel's tie, violently chopping at it with a horrible _MMRRRR!_ sound. The angel grabbed at his throat, wishing the tie would come loose. Once again, the blades fought him on his decision, so they were having a mini tug-of-war. "Help!" he sputtered. "...Sam!...Dean!"

It was Dean to the rescue for the seventh time, barreling into Cas like he was football player. They crashed to the floor, Cas gulping for air.

"Cas...what...are you okay?" Dean asked, standing and turning the disposal off. He grabbed Cas' wrists and helped him up.

"It tried to kill me," Cas replied, giving it an evil glare.

"Well, don't destroy it, alright? Just be more careful next time. Don't wear a tie _and_ do the dishes."

Cas looked at Dean with big, innocent eyes. "I didn't know it would do that to me." He looked down at his shredded tie, took it off, and threw it on the counter.

"It's okay," the Winchester patted him on the back. He noticed that the stuff that had been growing on the plate was splattered all over the sink.

"I'll clean it up," Cas stated. "You keep watching your show," he shooed Dean back into his room and got to work.

The angel thought he'd use the sprayer to do the job, pulling it out of its place and turning the warm water knob. The pressure was high at that moment; the hose went wild and sprayed Cas in the face and just about everywhere else in the room. At least the sink was clean now. Castiel slipped on the wet floor, still being doused by the rogue nozzle swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

Dean sighed, leaning on the doorway. He folded his arms and shook his head at the angel. "You need help."

Cas gazed up with wet, dark hair matting his forehead. "Yes I do."


	8. Toothpaste

We all know how Cas likes to get in people's personal space. That's exactly what he was doing while he was having a serious discussion with Dean until the hunter said, "Dude, seriously, back up. Your breath..."

Cas turned his head inquisitively. "What about my breath?"

"Do you _ever_ brush your teeth?" Dean pushed the angel away with two fingers.

"Brush my teeth?"

Dean sighed, figuring that Cas didn't bother much with his vessel. "C'mon," he grabbed Cas by the wrist and dragged him into his bathroom. "Okay," he began, putting toothpaste on his own toothbrush, "brush." He handed it over to the angel.

Cas stood there dumbfounded, looking to his friend for further instruction.

"Up and down, on your teeth, not your gums," Dean stated, seizing his arm and moving the brush around in Cas' mouth. "You got it?"

"Geh-heh," the angel agreed, eyebrows up and eyes wide. He tasted different molecules than what he did in food, this stuff minty, bubbly, and frothy.

"You've got to spit, y'know," Dean let go of Cas' arm. He should've been more specific. "In the sink, Cas! The sink!" the hunter angrily took his shoes off.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologized, facing the sink as he brushed.

Dean shook his head as he left the room to wash his shoes, muttering "angels."

At one point during Cas' brushing, he ran out of the toothpaste. He found the bottle and added more—way more—of the slow green liquid to the bristles. Except, now, he was eating the minty substance instead of using it to clean his teeth. He figured it was easier that way, since it was still getting on his teeth, after all. The molecules actually tasted quite interesting even though angels can't really taste.

When Dean returned, he exclaimed, "Holy hell, Cas! You aren't supposed to eat it!" he lifted up the bottle. "It's all gone!"

Cas looked extremely guilty. "You can buy more."

"That's not the point," Dean frowned.

"Does my breath smell better?" he got in Dean's face.

"Yes," the Winchester groaned. "Don't ever eat any of my toothpaste again, okay?"

"Okay," Cas nodded. No more of _Dean's_ toothpaste.

* * *

When Sam woke up in the morning and went in his bathroom to brush his teeth, the toothpaste bottle was empty. He wondered who could have snuck in here in the middle of the night and done this. And why?


	9. Street Things

Sam and Dean were investigating a case and decided to bring Cas along. They were just walking down the sidewalk until they came to a busy street. The Winchesters stopped, of course, but Cas walked into traffic without a care in the world. "Hey!" Dean yelled, grabbing him by the trench coat and yanking him back as a truck plowed past.

"What?" Cas asked, gazing between both brothers.

"We have told you to look both ways before crossing," Sam replied.

"I did look," the angel stated.

"Then why the hell did you go out there!?" Dean gruffly inquired.

"I thought they'd see me."

The two Winchesters exchanged glances. "See that red hand over there?" Dean pointed to a sign across the street. "That means you can't cross."

"But I can. I was going to until you stopped me," Cas responded.

"You'll get hit," Sam said, both of them getting agitated.

"Just cross when we cross, okay?" Dean said, moving over to a tall metal pole connected to various cords and pressing a button.

Cas tilted his head. "What did you just do to the pole?"

"We can hopefully cross sooner," he answered. "Now shut your pie hole."

They stood in silence. _"Wait," _a voice from within the pole said. It was supposed to say that, but of course our angel didn't know that.

Castiel jumped. "It just talked."

"Yes, it did," Dean said.

The angel swept his gaze back and forth. "Aren't you concerned?"

Dean pressed the button again. _"Wait."_

"Stop doing that," Cas threatened.

"Ooh, scary!" Dean mocked sarcastically, waving his hands in the air. "It's the possessed street crossing of Lucifer! What ever shall we do, fearless angel of God?" He jabbed the button, once again making it say, _"Wait."_

Cas frowned and an angel blade slid out of his sleeve. "I will have to execute it."

Sam moaned. _Why me? Why is crossing the street taking so long?_

Dean poked the button lots of times. _"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wai—" _SCHWING! Cas stuck the angel blade in the pole and it stopped talking. He took it out, electricity crackling and sparks flying onto the sidewalk.

If things couldn't get worse, a police officer pulled over in his white patrol car and exited. "Hold it there!"

"RUN!" Dean yelled, taking off down the sidewalk. Cas watched him go and then flew out of sight, leaving Sam at the mercy of the policeman.

"I didn't do anything," Sam explained.

"Mhm, that's what they all say," he cuffed the younger Winchester. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law..."

Sadly, Sam had already heard that speech over a dozen times.


	10. Laptop Blues

It was another one of Castiel's confused moments with technology. He was in a motel room watching Sam on his laptop, Dean already left for his usual hangout at a bar. Being immortal and having lived for centuries, the angel really had no sense of time; apparently, he stared too long when Sam commented, "Stop doing that," and kept typing.

Cas gazed away. "Sorry."

"Is there something you want?" Sam looked over at him.

"Uhh...how does this research thing work?" his eyes shifted back to Sam, who moved the screen across the desk so Cas could see.

"I knew this happen one day," the Winchester stated ominously. "Okay, come closer," he gestured. Cas took a step forward. Sam kept waving him closer until Cas was at a good distance, narrowing his eyes quizzically. Now he didn't want personal space? Fine.

"What do I do?"

"Put your hands on the keyboard."

Cas did as Sam instructed, covering the keys with his hands and causing a whole bunch of J's to shoot across the Google search engine.

"Not like that," Sam said, removing the angel's fingers and deleting the J's. Cas straightened and watched with disappointment. "You put your fingers on the home row like this," the Winchester demonstrated. "Then, you move them to the keys, spell out what you want to find or ask, and press the enter key to search. Got it?"

Cas nodded. He leaned over and tried again, clumsily moving his fingers to the various letters that were required.

Sam's brow furrowed in worry. "Wha...why...?"

The question Cas had for Google was _if the pizza man truly loves the babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear?_ and a whole bunch of porn websites jumped out at them.

"I don't think it worked," the angel stated innocently.

Sam gently pushed Castiel aside and backspaced the websites away, not wanting to see nude behinds and pepperoni. "You must not be so specific in your questions. And, uh, don't mention this to Dean, okay?"

"Okay," Cas mumbled. "Why won't anyone tell me why the pizza man slaps—?"

"Cas! We're not supposed to talk about it."

"But—"

"Not a word!" Sam typed in a simple question such as _who are the four horsemen of the apocalypse? _A whole lot of results appeared, including a Wikipedia page among other things. "Anyways, when researching, you go to different sites and read them for information." He clicked on the Wikipedia.

"That doesn't look like Death," Cas pointed out a dark-hooded man with a long scythe.

"Normal people," Sam scoffed. "They really don't know."

Cas hesitated for a few moments. "Can I try it again?"

"Sure," Sam replied, going back to Google.

Cas typed faster than last time, but he still asked a strange question. Now it was _why didn't Bella pick Jacob?_ And he pressed enter. Lots of shirtless pictures of a muscular tanned teenage guy showed up.

This is when Dean popped in unexpectedly; he forgot his phone. Then he stood there, gawking at the two.

"What the hell?!"

Sam leapt in front of his computer. "It's not what it looks like."

"He was showing me how to research," Cas explained.

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't wanna know."

"Thank you, Sam," Cas clapped the younger brother on the shoulder. "This has been very informative." He flew out of the room.

The two Winchesters faced each other.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Sammy?" Dean inquired.

"Cas wanted to know _Twilight_ stuff," he replied, closing down all the tabs and putting the screen down.

Both sighed, Dean with relief, Sam with worries about the angel.

Meanwhile, Cas threw a large book that looked like a copy of _Eclipse _at Metatron sitting in his jail. "I do not appreciate what you've done to me!"

* * *

**Hope you understood the Twilight :P **

**This is the first time I've ever asked anybody for something...but...any ideas or requests? Much appreciated.**

**Thanks for being such loyal readers!**


	11. Origami Laundry

**Thanks for the ideas and support! It is much appreciated!**

* * *

"What are you doing?" Cas suddenly appeared beside Dean, who had been bending over a pile of clothes in the dryer.

He yelped and hid a pair of black boxers behind his back. "Your mom!"

"I have no mother," the angel stated.

"It was an insult," Dean responded.

"Oh. Well, it did not work," Cas stared at the clothes. "What are you doing?"

"The laundry."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "And how does that work?"

Dean sighed and decided to throw his boxers in Castiel's face. "You take 'em out of the machine and fold 'em."

The angel picked the unmentionable up with two fingers and handed it back to the Winchester. "I refuse to touch your undergarments."

"Too bad. I have some noodles to stir," Dean walked out of the room and into the kitchen.

Cas thought he caught wind of a separate meaning for "noodles to stir" as in "messing up Sam's hair." Dean was always saying things that seemed—to the angel—out of place. Either way, he began to take out the clothes and fold the laundry. Folding was one thing he could do, even with socks. Cas accomplished the task quickly and efficiently, positive that he hadn't screwed up this time.

Then Dean returned. "Cas...what have you...?" he stared around at the origami clothes filling the room. Hunting jackets and plaid shirts had been turned into birds, flowers, a cat, some dragonflies, and an angel. It was a gray angel that looked like one of those from Doctor Who.

"I folded the laundry," the angel announced triumphantly, picking up a black flower that had once been one of Dean's socks.

"You're not supposed to fold it like this!" the Winchester exclaimed, chuckling, and he picked up a red plaid swan.

Castiel's face fell. "Oh."

"But you did a great job," Dean added, putting an arm around a trench-coated shoulder.

Cas' blue eyes of grace looked at him. Green eyes stared back.

It got awkward.

As they gazed at each other, Sam scuffled into the room. "Is that my shirt?" he eyed the swan.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Cas made it." He handed the origami shirt over to Sam.

"Well, that's nice."

Silence. Cas was blushing.

Sam stated, "Your noodles are boiling over."

"Damn!" Dean sprinted into the kitchen.

Sam made his shirt flap its wings. "Do me a favor?"

"I suck at favors," Cas mumbled, feeling too ignorant of human behavior to do anything right.

"Don't ever change," Sam flew his shirt out of the room, making chirping sounds.

Cas stared. Why would he do that? His vessel never required a change of clothes.

"Noodles?" Dean returned with a steaming bowl, ramen hanging from his mouth.

"The...ones in the bowl?"

Dean stopped eating and raised his eyebrows.

Cas swallowed nervously.

"Oh, I think Heaven is calling me!" Cas said before flying away.

Dean stood in the middle of the laundry room, the noodles still uneaten. "Damn."


	12. Pizza

**Thanks to an idea from a guest called Scarkit, we now have this Destiel thing! Thanks to all of you!**

* * *

Dean's stomach rumbled. It usually never did that because he was always stocked up on pie. Well, today there was no pie; he looked all over the bunker for a single slice.

Sam noticed his brother's franticness as the older Winchester opened cupboard doors. "Dude, maybe you should eat something else for a change."

"NO!" Dean yelled, closing the cabinets. "Give me pie or give me death!"

"He said not to trap him ever again," Sam reminded him. "Unless you have pickle chips."

"Ugh," Dean moaned. Then he thought of the first time he had met Death. In Chicago, in that parlor... "Wait, do we have pizza?"

"No, but we do have the ingredients for one."

"I'll be back when you finish," Dean stated before he began to leave.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam leapt in front of him. "I'm not your slave; if you want a pizza, then _you_ make it yourself. I'm not your babysitter."

"Exactly. I'm always the one who has to watch you. That makes me the babysitter."

Sam rolled his eyes and exited the kitchen, leaving Dean to his own devices.

Dean didn't have devices. He had a loyal angel who would do just about anything for his Righteous Man. Gazing at the ceiling after retrieving the already-prepared-crust, sauce, pepperoni, and cheese, he said, "Castiel, Castiel, let down your long hair..."

The sound of wings announced the angel's arrival. "My hair is not long," Cas commented. "It is the standard length for an American male." Dean chuckled at this, thinking of his little brother. "What is it that you want, Dean?"

"I want to teach you how to make a pizza," the hunter grinned.

The angel narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I'm hungry."

Cas sighed for effect. "Fine."

"Begin by spreading the sauce over the crust," Dean took a seat, propping his feet on the counter as Cas opened the bottle of sauce. He closed his eyes and sung _Highway to Hell_ in his head, moving his feet back and forth until Cas asked, "Okay, now what?"

"Sprinkle the cheese evenly over the sauce," he instructed, popping his eyes open. "And then put the pepperoni on top of that. Turn the oven to 350 degrees or something like that for ten or fifteen minutes."

"You don't sound very sure," the celestial being replied.

"Whatever." Dean then began singing a little bit of Elvis while Cas did the finishing touches on the pizza. "_Don't you step on my blue suede shoes."_

"You are not wearing blue suede shoes," Cas slid the pizza into the oven, making sure to turn the heat on to 350.

"It's a song, Cas. By the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis."

Castiel considered this for a moment, turning around to face Dean. His hands were covered in sauce and cheese, apparently not using a spoon to spread the sauce or washing his hands in between processes. There was a pepperoni resting on his tie. He said in a completely serious voice, "I can dig Elvis."

Dean smiled, wondering why the phrase sounded familiar. Maybe it had been a past life or a parallel universe or what not, but he was pretty sure that he was the one who was supposed to say it. "Wash your hands. You look like a Freddy Krueger gone through an Italian chef."

Cas looked at his hands as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. "My hands."

"Wash your hands," Dean reiterated.

"Right," the angel stared at the sink.

Dean moaned, standing up and walking over. He turned the faucet, water washing the sauce and cheese away. Dean added soap and began scrubbing Cas' hands. Their fingers passed each other many times, and time seemed to stretch on endlessly.

"This is how you..." Cas swallowed, "...wash hands?"

"It only takes yourself," Dean responded, raising his head to gaze into the blue graced eyes. "But I think another person helping makes it better."

The angel didn't blink for the usual reasons. "Am I the pizza man?"

"Yeah," the Winchester glanced down, then back up. "That makes me the babysitter," he purred.

"Oh," Cas' gaze expanded, and they both nodded slowly.

"Sammy's probably asleep."

"Mhm," Cas managed as Dean's face came closer.

_DING DING DING DING DING!_

The smoke alarms went off, the pizza burning in the oven. Had it been that long? The thick gray smoke reached for the ceiling as if it was a demon without a vessel.

Sam burst into the kitchen. "What's—? Oh."

Dean shot him a murderous glare. Cas looked guilty and flushed.

The moose's face expressed so many different emotions in one instant: confusion, weirdness, understanding, sympathy, a little bit of jealousy. Why couldn't he have his own angel to make pizzas with? "You should have told me, Dean."

"Sam, I can explain!"

"I don't think you need to," Sam began backing out of the kitchen.

"Bitch."

"Jerk," he smiled ruefully as he went down the hallway.

"Clean this up, and don't burn yourself," Dean directed Cas. He turned to the hallway, prepared to go after his brother.

"Wait a moment," Cas said, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and pressing their faces together.

He pulled a pizza man.

"You finally did something right," Dean said as the oven caught fire, illuminating this special moment.


	13. Stapler

Sam and Dean were working on a case. At least, Dean was working; Sam was confined in his bed, sniffling, blowing his nose into tissues. Poor Sammy. Not even Castiel, with all of his heavenly healing powers, could cure the younger Winchester's cold. After all, there is no cure for the common cold. It's Heaven verified.

The angel sadly shook his head at Sammy the Red-Nosed Moose. "You tried," Sam stated, his voice deeper. He looked up from his place in the bed and gave Cas those _Sad Sammy_ eyes.

Cas left the room and found Dean in the library on Sam's laptop, doing research on a local ghost or something. "Hey Cas," he mumbled, tapping a few buttons. The nearby printer began shooting out paper. He looked at the angel. "Could you do me a favor?" Dean asked with big green eyes. There was a family resemblance whenever they did that.

"Anything Dean," Cas replied with a little smile.

"Staple those papers for me?"

Cas certainly knew what a stapler is and how it's used. He saw one near the printer, strolling towards it while Dean went back to his researching. Stacking the papers neatly, Cas positioned them between the stapler's jaws. As Cas pushed down on the stapler, he glanced back at Dean, who stood up and stretched. The angel watched as the Righteous Man's muscles flexed and his shirt moved to reveal some back. So sexy...

"Ah! My finger!" Cas exclaimed as he felt a prick of pain in his left index finger. He noticed that a staple went through an outer layer of flesh and into the papers. He shook his hand in the air, the papers moving with Castiel's finger. It was unnerving to see himself attached to documents.

Dean chuckled as he walked over to the trench-coated angel. He got him by the wrist and examined the situation. The Winchester sighed. "This is why I love you," he grinned, suddenly wrenching Castiel's finger away.

Cas flexed his fingers, glad the weight was gone. "Thanks Dean," he beamed, gratitude written all over his face.

"You're welcome," Dean replied, swiftly re-stapling the papers and making Cas blush. He returned to his seat and gestured to another one nearby.

The angel sat, moving his seat closer. "I guess I'll just..." he felt Dean's hand find his under the table, "...wait here then."


	14. Spider Men

**Somebody named Osjec asked if I'd finish the story. Well, this is just a bunch o' one-shots. And thanks for saying it's awesome :)**

* * *

The bunker, being the large place that it was, needed to be cleaned on a regular basis. Sam, being the "clean freak" that he was, noticed a buildup of cobwebs in various rooms. He knew that Dean was definitely slacking off, probably doing something that wasn't good for his health. Since Sam knew he had nothing better to do, he got to work.

The swoosh of Castiel's wings startled Sam. "Oh, hey there, Cas," Sam stated, looking over his shoulder and then continuing to remove dust and webs with the broom.

"Hi."

The gruff voice had sounded much like the time when Sam had questioned why the angel had paid more attention to Dean. _A more profound bond_, Cas had replied with wistfulness in his voice. Well, at least he was still best buds with Sam, occasionally spending time alone with him.

"Need any help?" Cas inquired.

"Sure," the Winchester responded. As the angel wandered off to find a broom, Sam decided to pick off some cobwebs and toss them into the trash can. Bad idea.

A huge (or maybe it looked huge, that thing was too hairy for its own good) black spider meandered out of the straw. On instinct, Sam screamed like a girl. It wasn't manly, of course, who could yell manly in the face of an eight legged sonuvabitch like this?!

He whacked the broom against the wall, which enticed the spider to scurry up the handle.

"I got this!" Cas leaped into action with his angel blade, Sam dropping the broom. He stabbed wherever the spider happened to run, on the floor, up the wall. The angel blade clanged against the concrete as Cas did the best to gank the arachnid.

Sam was backed against a shelf of boxes as Dean entered the room, yawning. The older Winchester was in his pajamas—sweatpants and T-shirt—and had a copy of Busty Asian Beauties in hand. He approached Cas and the spider nonchalantly, rolling up the magazine. Dean gripped Castiel's shoulder and gently moved the angel aside.

With a quick hit, Dean squashed the life out of the spider. Guts splattered onto the wall and some stuck to Dean's magazine. He yawned again and exited. "Thanks, Dean," the angel and moose said in unison. They turned to each other, eyes meeting.

"Nice hunting skills," Cas commented, a little smile spreading on his face.

"Shut up," Sam grinned. He picked up his broom and resumed cleaning. Cas found a feather duster and began in his own corner of the room.

One of the spider's legs twitched. Its insides returned...

The two weren't expecting this, slowly turning around at the creepy crawly pieced itself back together.

"DEAN!" Sam and Cas screamed, holding onto each other for dear life. "DEEEEEEEEEEEAN!"

Said Winchester strolled back into the room with a mug of coffee. He glanced at the spider, shook his head, and took a sip of his drink.

"DEAN!"

"What?"

"KILL IT!"

"Calm down, guys. It's just a creepy-Crowley." He smiled and walked out.

They turned to look at the spider. It seemed as though it was smirking at them.

"Hello boys."


	15. The Hot Topical

**Thanks for all of your reviews! A guest prompted this chapter: Cas at a shopping center/centre. I'll add some other ideas that were in the review from "a fanfictioner." It's all Cas this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Go shopping, _they said. _It'll be fun and educational, _they said. The Winchester brothers didn't have anything for the angel to do, so they suggested that he go to a mall. Public places are not friends of angels, he tried to tell them. They gave him some money anyway and off he flew.

"This place is bigger than Heaven," Cas stated aloud, exaggerating, to no one but himself. Passing people eyed him suspiciously and then continued on their merry way.

He was at a shopping center somewhere in California. It was his first time in such a place, and it confused him as much as the pizza man and babysitter had.

The mall's roof was all glass, naturally and effectively lighting the place. Slow escalators led to the second level of the enormous place. The polished floors gleamed like a mirror. Cas accidentally saw up a lady's skirt, immediately redirecting his gaze at one of the various shops. This one was dark and in neon red letters it read: **HOT TOPIC**

_Why would the topic be hot? Is it on fire?_ Castiel's curiosity got the better of him; he strolled inside without a care in the world, roaming around the racks. It seemed to be a place where teens go, since they were everywhere. Shirts from various fandoms hung on the wall, a few items contributing to popular shows such as Sherlock.

A sales clerk approached cautiously but with a friendly smile on his face. "Hey buddy, where's the fire?" He sounded stoned, like most teens. A surfer voice and Bieber hair that he flipped.

"That is exactly what I was wondering," Cas replied.

"Huh?"

"Why is it called Hot Topic if there is no fire?"

"I don't understand, bruh."

Cas gave the boy a squinted look as if he couldn't believe the teen's level of stupidity.

"Ya do know it's 90 degrees outside?" the teen nodded at Castiel's trench coat.

"Yes." After his response, he silently stared at the boy until he went away. Figuring it wouldn't look proper if an older man in a trench coat left without buying something (*cough*Russian*cough*mafia*cough*), he snatched a plush cat that might have been Siamese or Himalayan—it didn't matter. He paid using the money Sam and Dean had given him. Not knowing what else to do with the cat, he stuffed it in his pocket and figured he'd decided what to do later.

As he left Hot Topic, Cas peered around, wondering where to go next. The shiny room of kitchen appliances caught his attention. It puzzled the angel as to why a shopping center would have brand-new stoves sitting in there. So, he did what any other reasonable celestial being would do: investigate.

No one but the trench-coated angel existed in that room. Since nobody was around, he figured he'd see if the stove actually worked. It was the old kind: knobs, gas needed for flames, metallic circles to sit the pans on. Cas turned a knob. Nothing happened, not even the sound of gas trying to ignite. He bent down to get eye-to-eye with the problem.

_WOOSH!_

Blue flames erupted from the burner, Cas reacting fast enough to save his face. His tie, however, was ablaze. He hit it repeatedly with his angelic flame-resistant hand, trying to smother the fire.

The guy from earlier appeared in the window, holding his phone up, filming Cas and laughing. "You got yo' fire now, bruh! This is gonna be a Hot Topic!"

Cas simply ripped the tie off and let it burn on the stove. The angel left in a rush, flying away when no one was looking.

* * *

Cas didn't know what to do with the plush cat. He flew to an abandoned home he sometimes visited when he wanted to be alone. He placed the cat on the pillow of an unused bed. Though he wasn't one for material items, he figured the cat should have a name. The angel figured it out fairly quickly: Catsiel.


	16. I Ship It

The Winchesters and Cas sat at a booth in a fast food restaurant called _Big Gerson's_. Sam and Dean sat on one side and the angel sat across from them rather stiffly. A stoney-faced waitress strolled up to the three and handed them their food: Dean's burger and fries, Sam's salad, and Castiel's milkshake. The brothers had insisted that the angel order something to avoid suspicion, so he settled on a vanilla shake. "Thanks," Sam and Dean grinned at the lady before she walked away.

"You should really say something, Cas," Dean commented as he bit into his burger. "Listen, you need to interact more. You're more socially awkward than Sammy."

Said moose frowned through his salad. Cas sipped up his shake through a long straw.

"Yeah," Sam swallowed his lettuce leaves, "Or we'll have to get you a babysitter, dude."

Castiel's face turned a low hue of scarlet.

"What's the matter?" Dean mumbled around some fries. The taller brother had his concerned face on.

The angel moved the shake away from himself, losing what little appetite he had in the first place. "I have no desire to touch another being's rear."

Dean choked on his burger immediately. Sam's face only creased further in worry, thinking, _Looks like Dean will have to give another lesson to his angel. _He paused in his thoughts. _I ship it._

"Uh...Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

The dark blond Winchester leaned in closer to the trench-coated angel. "Are you referring to that woman in the dirty film you saw?"

"Which dirty film?"

Sam snickered, his expression going slack. He began eating his salad. Dean lowered his gaze at the diamond pattern on the table. Had Cas watched more than one of those things?

"The one with the pizza man," Dean muttered, dragging his eyes back up to Castiel's blue irises.

"Yes. I have no desire to touch another being's rear," he repeated.

"Mhm," Dean mumbled, leaning back in the booth. "Of course." He shot a glance at Sam, who smirked.

Cas decided to elaborate further. "Unless the person in question has done something wrong and must be punished."

"Dean's been bad!" Sam blurted and his brother gave the moose a shove. He picked at the lettuce and tomatoes as Dean quickly shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth.

The angel didn't understand the situation. "What did he do?"

"Well—" Sam began, but Dean clamped his hand over Sam's mouth. "Don't you dare," the older brother hissed.

Cas had his confused face on. Sam wriggled out of Dean's grip, grabbed his salad, and swung over into Castiel's booth, giving Cas the best hazel puppy eyes the world has ever seen. "You see, when I was younger, Dean used to babysit me."

Said brother gave Sam an intense green stare. _Please don't do this, Sammy. _

"It so happens that he once stuffed me in the fridge with a salad," he continued, Cas glancing at the mentioned food in front of Sam.

"You are what you eat," Dean growled, though he was thinking fondly of the memory.

"And he _never_ got in trouble for it," Sam finished. His bad but convincing act satisfied the angel.

Castiel's stare was absolutely serious. "Would you like me to give his behind a slap?"

Sam was going hysterical on the inside, shaking and smiling as Dean turned a shade of pink. "Yes, but not here," Sam laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Later, in the motel room."

"I'm too old to be spanked," Dean stated.

Cas appeared to be confused. "That wasn't what you were saying last night."


End file.
